


Efficiencies

by ponchard



Series: They Are All Real - Stories of Minor NPCs [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Accounting, Alcoholism, Ben-Hassrath, Berethlok, Black City (Dragon Age), Canon Compliant, Cetus - Freeform, Dangerous Purpose, Dangerous Questions, Demon Deals, Demonic Possession, Diplomacy, Gaatlok, Gen, Golden City (Dragon Age), Kont-Aar, Magisters Being Dicks, Mark of the Rift, Medieval Medicine, Modern Civilization In Thedas, One Shot, Orlais Bashing, Paperwork, Red Lyrium, Reduce Risk of Similar Losses, Revenge, Rivain, Second Sin, Skyhold, The Blight (Dragon Age), The Breach (Dragon Age), The Conclave, Torture, Viddathari, bureaucrats, farmers, farming, per usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-28 22:08:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10840431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ponchard/pseuds/ponchard
Summary: Since we control the Inquisitor, we know they won't turn evil and start ripping holes in Thedas. But NPCs don't know that. To them, the Inquisitor must seem like a ticking time bomb.In this one-shot, a bureaucrat in Rivain grapples with that problem... along with the more pressing problem of Venatori attacks on local farms.





	Efficiencies

"Just a few more months of training, and I'll be able to spare a few." The seeker's eyes darted back and forth, as if calculating the time he'd need to get them combat-ready. 

"Can you spare them now?"

"They're not skilled-"

"I know." At that, he flinched. I tried to soften my voice. "I understand your concern, but the Breach wreaked havoc on everyone's schedules. Your trainees are more prepared than most." _And they have the connections we need._ But he knew that already. 

He sighed. "Try to give them easier work, if you can."

"Thank you." I added his group to my ledger, moved some of the more veteran units around. I could scatter the numbers, and I could cram them together in one space. Funny thing about numbers, though. They wouldn't stretch. No matter how hard I pulled. 

They came closer, at least. 

I'd tried to keep detailed records, tried to pinpoint exactly how many people were needed for this or for that. How long it would take so-and-so's investigators to retrieve a magical artifact, how long such-and-such team took to clear out rogue mages. Now, all those careful estimates went right out the window. We simply didn't have enough hands. 

The magisters were troublesome enough when they weren't being led by a darkspawn god. These _Venatori_ were well-supplied, and whipped into a religious ecstasy. 

And they had red lyrium. Even our most curious researchers wouldn't touch the stuff. The Tevinters had been terrorizing some of the more remote farms with it. Poisoning crops, kidnapping farmers, feeding them until they were nothing but red. If we could cut it off, completely stop the flow of lyrium in that region...

Immediately after writing it, I scratched out the number, moved it to another box. _No, we need to guard the crops. We can't fight if we can't eat._ That's what I'd say, if anyone asked. It sounded better than "The last farmer to visit this outpost screamed for hours on the floor." 

Not that anyone would ask. The Venatori had struck multiple regions, and they always made sure someone was alive to report on their antics. Alive _enough_. 

Besides, the excuse was true, in a way. Without support, a direct attack on Venatori supply lines would get that crew killed. Better to have them protecting crops, where they might actually make a difference. Still, if we could cut off the lyrium entirely, it would solve the problem more decisively-

A messenger rapped lightly on the doorframe. 

"Good news, Bad News?" 

I smiled at the seeker as he stood to leave, waving Bad News into the room. That wasn't her real name, of course, but she'd had the misfortune of taking over right when this whole mess started. When your first report is "I'm your new contact; the previous five were at the Conclave," it can only go downhill from there. 

I'd even written it into my charts, underlined it twice. _No matter how "efficient" it is, never send a whole team of veterans to one place._ That had been my predecessor's mistake, not mine. He'd been at the Conclave too.

"It's news."

"That bad?"

"Uncertain. Our priest says she's confirmed the connection-"

"How 'confirmed'?"

Bad News blew out a breath. "She seemed pretty certain. She still wants more time."

"Don't we all?"

"True enough. Does this mean we need to move?"

I glanced at the ledger. _That assumes we_ can. "What does she think?"

Bad News rolled her eyes. "You know her: 'They have no failsafe! No plan! If a demon tells him to test the mark, he could end the world without a single signature from his diplomats!'"

 _Or if it activates on its own. Or if he's prone to anger. Or if a growth presses on his brain. Or if he drinks too much._ It had been hard enough for _us_ to deal with one minister's adventures in alcoholism. Among Orlesians, with only a smattering of knowledge about mental health? They'd be hard-pressed to recognize something was wrong. Much less get him treatment in time.

Perhaps on a different day, we might have been able to send help. Some of our physicians could pass Inquisition vetting. They were always in high demand, but for such a critical situation, we'd usually scrounge up one or two. Unfortunately, the Herald wasn't the only one threatening the world at present. 

"Realistically, how quickly would we need to act?" I asked, smoothing out the page of numbers. 

"Her answer or mine?"

"Yours."

"Good. She'd say something like 'hours'." Bad News shook her head. "At its current power, he would need to rest often. The team's estimates say he'd need several days to significantly damage the Veil. We've seen worse occur naturally. We couldn't let it go past about four days, but we'd have time." _No time to change assignments. Time to accommodate a few mistakes, maybe._

"And if he stumbles on something in the Fade, like the magisters did?"

Bad News grimaced. "That's why she thinks it's hours."

"Has he shown any signs of trying such a thing?" Hastily, I added on, "your answer, not hers."

Her grimace deepened. "...yes? He isn't the most cautious person. Even his friends say this. The more forbidden something is, the more he wants to touch it. He's already struck a bargain with at least one demon."

 _And yet, he's the only one standing between us and the Venatori, unless we wake up tomorrow with several thousand extra fighters._

"Fantastic."

Unbidden, an image of the writhing farmer floated into my mind's eye. No, I was being irrational. We had stockpiles, reserves of food, for exactly this situation. I could pull out all the seekers. Have them escort the farmers to safety, then use them elsewhere. The Venatori could have their fun razing the farms, and we could worry about rebuilding later.

And the labor minister would chew off my head. Still, it was an option, if the Herald were to fall over dead. Or, prophet forbid, if he was assassinated! 

For now, thankfully, he was still in the picture. Still dealing with the Tevinters. We needed to conserve our forces for as long as possible. The longer we could delay dealing with him, the better. 

"Could we react within hours? Worst case."

"We could send the order that quickly. Whether it's followed..?"

"Understood." Several others had raised concerns about that assassin. He was more than competent, but he'd had some trouble with... punctuality, lately. No overt disloyalty. Nothing major. Unless, of course, every life in Thedas hung on his response time. We'd been keeping his other assignments light, eliminating any distractions. He already spent too much time away from the Inquisitor's side. 

Although. I fiddled with the figures again. As long as I was taking one risk, why not add another? I tore off two pages, scribbled orders on them. "In the meantime, take this to the assassin. And take this to the crew of the _The Earthen Prow_. Keep it quiet, so we don't alert the Vints."

Bad News sneaked a look at both orders, raising an eyebrow. "Catching two sea-dragons with one net, I see."

"Let's hope not. If they run into any sea-dragons, I'll need to make some reassignments." 

_What an understatement._ We'd be down a hundred sailors. Good, skilled people. We'd need to install a new assassin, someone we could trust with snap decisions. And if the shipments continued, the Venatori retaliation on our farmers would be even crueler than before. The numbers thrashed around on my balance sheet, seeming to shrink and shrink as I watched.

_Let's hope not._

**Author's Note:**

> I believe this is where one would typically include a Qunlat-to-Common dictionary. Here's a Common-to-Qunlat one instead:
> 
> assassin - a loose translation of hissrad, which is translated in game as "liar"/"keeper of illusions"; Qunari use the same word (hissra) for "illusion" and "god", which might explain why assassinating the Inquisitor also fell under the purview of the "keeper of the gods"
> 
> Earthen Prow - a guess at the meaning of Berethlok
> 
> labor minister - the Arigena
> 
> priest - a Ben-Hassrath (in this case, Viddasala)
> 
> the prophet - Koslun
> 
> sea-dragon - aban-ataashi
> 
> seeker - ashkaari
> 
>  
> 
> The other minister they reference is the DA2-era Arishok, who always has a Fenris-sized pile of discarded wine bottles beside him. The front of the seat completely hides the bottles from view, you have to go around the back to see them.
> 
> It casts the triumvirate's denials in a new light: maybe his actions really _were_ unsanctioned, the anger of a man with severely impaired judgment.


End file.
